The Dock

Pulling In To The Dock At Lyall Harbour

It’s hard to get interested in the dock, right? I think it’s mostly because it hasn’t burned down recently. That’s the sort of excitement that’s all too rare around here. Mostly the dock is okay though. It’s a dock, a little dock at the entrance to someplace called “Lyall Harbour” which for some reason has always struck me as a really strange name for a harbour.

Lyall’s kind of an old fashioned name sort of like “Waveney”. My step-dad had a friend name “Lyle” but you don’t hear of guys named Lyle too much anymore. I suppose there’s Lyle Lovett. I’m not huge on Lyle’s music but that’s irrelevant. There’s Lyell Island too so there’s a bunch of different ways to spell it. The dock doesn’t have a name except some official name and those are usually pretty dull.

How about “Dick” Dock?  Not “Dickorey” Dock.  Too nursery rhyme-y. Or “Betty” Dock. Let’s give it some character, people. How about Aloysius dock? I like it. Alright then let’s head down to Aloysius and get in the boat. Fish is jumpin.

I wonder how you could get something like that started, giving the dock a personal, cool name? Probably take a referendum which’d probably set the whole initiative back years. But it might be worth the agony.

I’ve been on the dock and looked at the boats at the dock but I only ever boarded a boat at the dock once and only ever stepped out of a boat onto the dock once and it was the same boat both times. The boat was called the “Anne Elizabeth” which is a very nice name.

Riding in the Anne Elizabeth was like being in some old movie. It brought back memories I could never have because I wouldn’t have been around then, but it fired the imagination, you know? The Anne Elizabeth has literally been put out to pasture which isn’t a bad way to go after a life at sea.  Just amazing.

I flew to Lyall Harbour in a plane once and stepped out onto the dock and sitting here right now writing these immortal words I can’t seem to recall if I ever actually stepped onto a plane from the dock to fly out of Lyall Harbour. I believe I may have had other arrangements at that time to get off this pokey island, which, as everyone knows, is nice to take short breaks from but, oh, the return. Back on the island! Yay!

A dock has to go on. What else is it going to do? I’m a dock. I’m here for these people. They can tie up to me so they don’t drift away. It’s a wonderful thing to be a dock. And people built me, maybe some of them were named Lyall or Lyell or Lyle or Lyla maybe, or Layla. Beautiful. If not it doesn’t matter now.

I’ve got it. “Lyla” Dock. “Hi Passengers. We’re now approaching Lyall Harbour, that’s it right there, “Lyall Harbour” straight ahead, a fine harbour. And coming up, where we’ll be disembarking, “Lyla Dock”. Folks, you’re going to love it here. Lyall and Lyla have been together a long time.  We’ve got camping, showers, a store, lots of nothing going on and beautiful scenery!

Okay. The dock is history. It’s got flavour. This is funny because “Word” keeps wanting to do American spelling “flavor” and I refuse! I’m British! We’re all British! We put the British in British Columbia! Back off!

It’s British, English, whatever. It’s spelling and we’d feel lost without that “u”. It’s the way we were raised.

Boats at the dock come and go. Some stay what starts to look a very long time. Some, decrepit, go on and on. It’s like an experiment. How long before this ship disappears? What’s holding it together and why? What is it about boats? The thing is boats hold a mysterious fascination for human beings and docks are inextricably joined to boats because every boat, no matter of what size,  will have to get to a dock at some point in time. And that’s just the truth.

That is the romance of the dock. Everything’s connected, the boat to the dock, the dock to the water and tides, the people who use the dock or maybe are just having a look around. You can get fuel at the dock which has been a godsend more than once.

Docked